


oh my head's to blame (for all my heart's mistakes)

by efface



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Brief Alcohol Mention, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:36:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/efface/pseuds/efface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Just come over a few times next week, and do…boyfriend things with me? Impress my parents and convince them that I’m not going to have a partying fuelled breakdown from the ‘pressure of the industry’?”</p>
<p>“This is so ridiculous.”</p>
<p>“So you’ll do it?” Harry says excitedly.</p>
<p>“I didn’t say that.”</p>
<p>“Pleeeeease? If you date me for a week I’ll treat you to lots of nice things,” Harry bribes. “I used to be a baker you know, I can make some pretty sick pastries.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iksnilits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iksnilits/gifts).



> I am nervous posting this as I've never participated in a fic exchange before, but I hope it's an enjoyable read! If there's something I've forgotten to tag please let me know. And of course, thank you to the lovely @polishedstone for being my beta.

“Yes, mum, I know. You don’t need to worry.” Harry runs a hand through his hair, his bare feet thudding across his flat as he rifles through the fridge for breakfast stuff. “I’m absolutely fine.” He had been out the night before, drinking and dancing with some other models after a dinner that he had to go to for his agency. He had woken up a bit queasy, but a shake and a bit of yoga had perked him up for the morning. It’s nice being in London, since lately the amount of time he’s spent in hotels has been increasing. 

“Harry, I know you’re fine, but I just want you to take steps to make sure it stays that way. You’re a smart boy, but you’re still a baby.” 

“You’re the only person who thinks that mum, I’m twenty-one.” Harry chuckles, spooning sugar into his tea. 

“That’s still baby age. And you’ve been at this since you were barely eighteen. And now things are getting busier for you, and I’m proud, you know I am, but I just think of you constantly travelling and then coming home to a big empty flat-“

“It’s not that big,”

“And we don’t get to see you that much anymore,”

Harry swallows down his tea and frowns guiltily. His mother knows he’s always wanted to venture out on his own, and yes he may have done a few questionable things and had a few public mishaps but overall he feels that he’s doing fine. He’s a social, creative person, the fashion industry is made for people like him. 

“I just worry about you being lonely. I know you’re gorgeous and charming, but having a career based on those kind of shallow things is worrying to a mother.”

“Heeey, fashion is art.” Harry whines playfully.

“I know darling, but you are just the pretty face that sells the clothes at the end of the day.” Harsh, but true. “And I know that you can get lost in that, especially when you’re just growing into yourself as an adult and have much older, aggressive people working around you. I just worry about you being alone you know, my baby boy…”

Harry can hear her getting emotional, which is the worst. He can’t stand when people cry, and when it’s his own mother, because of him, it makes his heart ache uncomfortably. He wracks his brain for something to make it better, and then-

“Well, I’m not totally alone. I’ve been…seeing someone. Like proper seeing someone,” He adds with a silent wince. He’s ‘seen’ a lot of people, especially according to gossip sites. Those few questionable things have probably lead to his label as a promiscuous heartbreaker. But he does have a lot of friends that are just friends. And a few casual dates here and there. And some casual sex. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. He’s great. Really caring and all that. We’re just keeping it low-key, you know? Don’t want to ruin a good thing with too much attention.” 

“That’s good. Someone to keep you grounded if it all gets too much, yeah?”

“Even though you know I can handle it,” Harry grumbles.

“Of course. Just placate your old mum, okay? You left me almost as soon as you walked out of school.”

“Yeah, mum.” Harry sighs. “I’m gonna go now, okay? Breakfast going cold.” 

“Alright, love you.” 

“Love you too, bye.”

It’s breakfast with the sound of the city, checking his email for his schedule for the next week, and doing a bit of cleaning, a slow Sunday to contrast the wild night before. Harry’s twitter is already blowing up, tagged pictures of him trying for his best sober face. There will probably be a few new rumours of him dating a girl he’s posed with, which he doesn't understand, since he can literally hold hands and kiss guys and it’s all written off as friendship, but that’s life, he supposes. 

Wanna hang out?

He gets a text from one of his good work friends, Cara. Knowing her she’s probably got something up her sleeve, something wild, and Harry’s definitely down. At first, everyone was sure they were dating but Cara got very interested in a few ladies and got papped very obviously…enjoying their company, so it wore off. 

Harry opens his closet, full of gifts from brands he’s modelled for and a few splurges he’s spent on himself. He sifts through a few sheer shirts trying to find one he’s feeling for the afternoon. 

He’s a model, he has to deliver with his outfits.

//

Monday is…not the best. He has a date with his walking coach, and walking is not exactly Harry’s strong point. It’s the main thing holding him back from booking bigger jobs, he keeps getting told. He’s a bit crooked and slouchy, and he’s working on it with yoga, but his walking coach is still hard on him. 

“You are so very lucky that you have that face and charm, Harry.” Richard sighs for the millionth time. “Because no label can trust you on the runway. Come on, shoulders back!” Harry sighs. Fashion week is fast approaching, and he’s not walking for many big names because of this. He’s already a bit of an unconventional model, body proportions not the usual and even a little short, but he sells. He’s just got it, whatever it is. But after a while ‘it’ doesn’t cut it anymore.

“So here’s the deal,” his agent, Louis tells him over a brief lunch date. “We need to keep you in demand, so I’ve organised a bit of PR for you. You know the singer, Zayn Malik?” 

“Yeah,” Harry replies around a bite of sandwich. “He’s the one who does the pop and r&b right?”

“Yeah. He’s been doing quite well lately, amazing voice, and absolutely gorgeous, I mean like. Everyone wants him.” Louis waves his hands a bit as he speaks. “Problem is, he’s a bit shy, doesn’t really like networking on a big scale. So I’ve pulled some strings and I think you two could go on a few dates, yeah? It’ll help give you a bit of an edge over some other models while we improve that walk, and when fashion week rolls around again you’ll be ready.”

“Hmm,” Harry mulls over it a bit. He’s not dumb, he knows this kind of thing happens all the time in this industry, and if it will help his career and his date is apparently ridiculously hot, why not? “So just a couple dates?” 

“Yeah nothing binding. You don’t have to like become proper boyfriends, or shag him or anything…unless you want to,” Louis smirks and raises his brows.   
Harry rolls his eyes bemusedly. “Sorry, but I’m trying to stay away from the sleeping around rumours, remember?”

“If you say so,” Louis chuckles.

//

He and Zayn go to dinner. It’s simple, normal. Harry’s taken a bit off guard at just how ridiculously beautiful this guy is- of course, he’s seen him in passing on TV in a few videos or in a magazine, but he never really looked. Zayn’s gorgeous- thick, dark hair shaved on the sides but also slicked back neatly. He’s got these pretty almond-shaped eyes and ridiculous eyelashes, the perfect amount of stubble framing pink, pouting lips. Then his body, broad shoulders and nice hands, skinny but sturdy legs stemming from his tiny hips. It’s a bit overwhelming, especially since he’s dressed so sharply for dinner, all styled hair and stubble warm simmering eyes. He gives Harry an appraising glance when he shows up, standing up from where he’s already seated and giving him a hug. 

Okay, he smells amazing too. 

“Thanks for coming,” he says, thick accent but soft voice. Yeah, Harry doesn’t think he’ll mind this bit of publicity. 

“No problem,” Harry replies when he sits. “This is a bit weird, innit?” 

“Yeah,” Zayn chuckles. “But that’s the business I guess. “So, how long have you been living in London?”

They talk about usual first date things, like work and hometowns and music and television but Zayn’s a bit…dull, if Harry’s honest. He can hold a conversation, he’s well-spoken and a little witty but aside from his good looks there’s nothing that stands out, nothing that catches Harry’s attention and makes him curious about Zayn. Of course he makes music, he’s an artist, but he seems so, so…he wouldn’t want to fuck shit up a bit just for fun, or embarrass himself and laugh it off. He’s a little too serious and reserved for Harry’s taste. 

So when Louis asks him about a follow up date, Harry’s a bit reluctant. He grins and bears it anyways- it’s not like Zayn is not sweet and everything, and business is business, so. It’s not like he’ll have to see him after this.

//

“So Harry, when are we going to meet this boy of yours?” his mother asks. “You’ve been spending time together for, what, two, three months and we don’t know him at all.” 

Harry pauses. He hasn’t thought this far. He figured if he just offered up a few answers and made-up tales of private dates to keep his parents satisfied, everything would be fine. It’s gotten so easy, to spit out a little story about him and his ‘boyfriend’ attempting new recipes and spending lazy nights on the couch, that he forgot about the, well, having an actual boyfriend part.

“Uh,” He offers up helpfully. 

“You don’t have to hide him from us too, you know.” She chuckles. “He sounds lovely and we want to get to know him.” 

“Yeah, uh.” Good thing Harry’s not known for his amazing speaking skills. 

“Well we’re coming to visit next week, so we can meet him then I assume.” She continues cheerfully. 

Next week?

Next week. Harry forgot about that. Christ. He has a vague recollection of agreeing to it months ago, and his phone’s calendar confirms it.   
Shit.

What the hell is he going to do? He could have a coincidentally well-timed break-up right before his parents arrive, but then he’d still have to come up with more explanations. They’d probably ask for a picture of him regardless, too, and it all starts to sound too complicated in Harry’s head to possibly pull off successfully. 

Or he could find someone. A friend, or something, who wouldn’t mind going along with Harry’s stupidity. That sounds feasible. He could just have them come over a few times during the time that his parents are over and act…boyfriend-y. That shouldn’t be too hard, since Harry tends to act very affectionate with all of his mates anyway. 

“Oh yeah! You’re going to love him.” Harry finally stutters out. 

“I’m sure we will, hun. Talk to you later, okay?” 

“Of course, love you mum. Bye.”

So he has to find a boyfriend.

But who could he ask? Not Louis of course, that would be weird. And Ed’s straight and taken. He’s already denied any questions about he and Nick, and he would hate to complicate that all over again since Nick did have genuine feelings for him. He needs someone he knows, but is not too close to, someone his family doesn’t know of so it doesn’t seem suspicious.

Harry rubs his eyes and sighs, flopping backwards onto the couch and reaching for the remote. When he flicks on the telly, he gets his answer in the sound of a rich smooth voice and amber eyes singing to him on the top 20.

Zayn Malik. He’d be perfect.

//

“You want me to what?”

“I know, I know, it sounds crazy-”

“It is crazy. I mean, Harry, we went on what, two, three dates? Who even makes up that kind of shit up?” Zayn sounds very judgemental, which Harry deserves, but he needs him to say yes.

“Listen, it was just, like, a little white lie and it kind of got out of hand and I just need this favour, okay? I know we’re not very close but you’re the only person I can think of.” Harry pleads in a rush.

It’s silent for a few beats and then Zayn sighs resignedly. Good. Resigned sighs are a step in the right direction, Harry thinks. 

“That’s the fastest I’ve ever heard you speak,” Zayn jokes. At least he hasn’t hung up. “So, if I did agree, what would be required of me?” He sounds very hesitant, but it’s progress.

“Just come over a few times next week, and do…boyfriend things with me? Impress my parents and convince them that I’m not going to have a partying fuelled breakdown from the ‘pressure of the industry’?”

“This is so ridiculous.”

“So you’ll do it?” Harry says excitedly.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Pleeeeease? If you date me for a week I’ll treat you to lots of nice things,” Harry bribes. “I used to be a baker you know, I can make some pretty sick pastries.”

Zayn sighs again. Harry wonders if he does that a lot, or if it’s just because of him. 

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,”

“You’ll do it?!”

“You owe me a huge favour, Harry Styles.”

“Thank you so so much Zayn. You’re the best!” 

//

“You’ve done some redecorating?” His stepdad asks, eyes widening as he glances around.

“Yeah,” Harry mumbles, lugging the bags over his shoulders. He finally actually tried to make the place a little more liveable, rather than a nice place to sleep every now and again. 

“Good, no use having a flat that’s half empty.” His mum says. Harry hopes she appreciates all the sex art he’s purchased. That’s what happens when you frequently shop with Daisy and Nick.

“Yeah, uh. You guys can clean up or rest or whatever. I don’t have anything to do today so I’m all yours.” Harry gives them some mini-jazz hands and a smile.

“Is Zayn coming over?” His mum asks instantly. Harry’s smile tightens. He had given them a glossed over summary of Zayn a few days back- how he’s ridiculously handsome and kind, loves his family, is the only boy surrounded by sisters, and loves animals (he’d gotten Zayn to give him a speedy overview of his personal life), and both of them are buzzing to meet him, Harry can tell.

“Yeah, he’s working right now, I think. But he’s excited to meet you.”

//

Zayn outdoes himself when he arrives for dinner, dressed casually but nicely and has flowers for Harry’s mum and a bottle of wine for dinner. Luckily, he saves Harry from gaping in the doorway by giving him a tight hug, palm low on his back with a small smile and a “hey babe”. Harry smiles back and welcomes him in, introducing Zayn to his parents.

“Nice to meet you sir,” Zayn offers a hand to Harry’s stepdad but gets a hug instead, stepping to the side to hug his mother as well.

“We’re so happy to finally meet you, Zayn. Harry’s said such lovely things about you!”

“I’m flattered,” Zayn sends a beautiful side smirk in Harry’s direction. “Unfortunately I can’t say the same about him, he’s a right pain.” 

“Heeey,” Harry whines as his parents chuckle. Good, he thinks. It’s actually working. 

“Need help cooking, babe?” Zayn asks when they’re inside and settled. 

“Oh so now you want to help, in front of my parents? I see your game,” Harry jokes. That’s how he is with people he’s into, playful and friendly. He’s trying to be realistic, after all.

Dinner’s nicely. Zayn is actually pretty good with cooking, tells Harry’s parents about how he used to pester his mum in the kitchen and eventually started to help out, naming dishes and foods that Harry’s never heard of before.

“I’m sure Harry enjoys that and takes full advantage of your cooking,” Robin says. He’s getting flushed from the wine, which hopefully means he’ll want to retire soon and Zayn can go and get on with things other than playing boyfriend to a bumbling model with whom he’s been on a total of two dates with.

“Well it’s not a problem since he’s not a very big eater,” Zayn replies, which is so not true. Shit, Harry thinks.

Anne gives Zayn a perplexed look. “Not a big eater? Harry eats everything.”

“Really?” Zayn brows lift and he emits a surprised sound before sipping at his wine. 

“Are you doing some kind of diet for the modelling, love?” Anne looks over to Harry. Christ. That’s the last thing Harry needs her worrying over.

“No, no,” Harry rushes out. “I think it’s just, “`cus like, I eat on sets and shoots during the day so sometimes when I get home late I’m not that hungry.” He bullshits, hoping that it’s enough.

“She just gets so worked up about Harry,” His stepfather interjects, “Always going on about ‘her baby’ and how much pressure is put on him. But you’ve been taking good care of him from what I hear.”

“Of course,” Zayn grins smoothly. “Everyone needs someone looking out for them, right?” Anne smiles at that, then gives Harry a look that seems to say he’s picked a good fake boyfriend.

It’s late when his parents finally go to bed, after they’ve watched television together, Zayn and Harry sitting close on the couch but not really touching, both of them a bit unsure of what’s acceptable. As the two of his parents stand to go to the bed, Zayn prepares to leave, picking up his expensive-looking coat.

“Are you leaving?” Anne asks, surprise wrinkling her forehead.   
“It’s late and cold out there,” his stepdad says. “You should stay, we certainly don’t mind.”

Zayn looks a bit frazzled, looking over at Harry. “Well I wouldn’t want to impede on you guys’ time together.” 

“Nonsense,” Anne waves a dismissive hand. “Stay. Harry can drive you to wherever you need to be tomorrow, right Harry?”

Harry shrugs. “Yeah, of course.”

“Great. Now goodnight you two. See you tomorrow.”

“So I’m staying.” Zayn looks amused as he speaks quietly to Harry.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m trying to keep things believable and all that.” Harry whispers as they head to his bedroom. 

“Speaking of which, the eating comment was a real miss, innit?” 

Harry grins and shakes his head. “I was wondering why you even said that.” He starts rummaging through his drawers to find sleeping clothes for Zayn.

“I was trying to be more ‘believable’, and when we went to dinner you didn’t eat that much.” Zayn shrugs.

“Well it kind of failed, didn’t it?” Harry says, handing Zayn some sleeping pants and an old t-shirt. 

“Forgive me, I’ve never pretended to be someone’s boyfriend before.” Zayn raises a very judgemental brow. He’s got a point.

“Uh, you can get a shower first. There’s stuff in there and if you need a toothbrush there’s a new one in the cupboard.”

“Thanks,” Zayn says. When he comes back from the bathroom, the smell of Harry’s body wash trailing behind him, he points behind him.

“Bathroom’s all yours.”

“Thanks boyfriend,” Harry gives him an exaggerated kissy face as he passes. He’s pretty sure he can hear Zayn’s eye roll. 

Sleeping is a bit awkward at first, a thin space between them as they’re back to back. But Zayn barely gets the words ‘good night’ out before he’s asleep, so Harry just curls up a bit and follows suit. 

//

Harry wakes before Zayn, goes downstairs to start breakfast. By the time his parents greet him, Zayn’s still asleep. Harry’s guessing he’s a heavy sleeper. He thinks he remembers hearing it in a short interview of his one television at some point. It’s weird, knowing little bits and pieces about Zayn, but not knowing him, having been on dates with him and now he’s met his parents and slept in Harry’s bed beside him. It’s a strange mix of being strangers and close.

He finally emerges as Harry’s finishing cooking with Anne’s help, greeting everyone softly with sleepy eyes. He looks adorable, a contrast from the striking, put-together Zayn Harry’s seen so far. He tells Harry that he’s got to get to a meeting a while later, which is fine since Harry has a test shoot later in the afternoon.

“You know,” Anne says after they’ve finished eating. “You two don’t have to be so cautious around us. It’s ok to touch!” She laughs. Harry and Zayn give each other a nervous glance. Harry assumes they look like two awkward thirteen year olds on a first date most of the time. He hasn’t even kissed Zayn.

“Trust me, I’ve caught Harry doing much worse when he was younger,” Robin shakes his head and Harry flushes.

“Really?” Zayn sounds interested as Harry avoids his questioning gaze.

“Let’s not go there,” He smirks. His mum’s frowning at him. She’s never going to let go of Harry’s poor, teenaged decisions. Zayn laughs. 

“Don’t know how you’ve managed to tame him, Zayn.” Anne says.

“Me neither,” Zayn grins.

//

Harry drops Zayn off at his place, making plans to see him the next day. Luckily no one’s around with cameras, so rumours don’t start flying again. They did go on those couple of dates before but the hype quickly settled down. He wouldn’t want people to think they were seriously together and complicate Zayn’s life anymore than he already has.

The rest of the day and evening are fairly boring without Zayn around. The next day is nice, he spends the morning out with his parents and then has a few work responsibilities whilst his parents go out to do their own thing. When he gets home he texts Zayn to come over. 

Zayn brings Chinese takeout, for which Harry is eternally grateful, and since it’s just them, Harry suggests they go out for a while. Zayn’s hesitant, he’s really quite a homebody, Harry discovers, but Harry convinces him that he knows a few little haunts they could go to and be safe from prying eyes and cameras.

They decide to ditch the car and go by public transport, go to a few bars Harry knows of, and then Zayn brings them to one of his friend’s place, a rapper that he’s super close with. They introduce themselves as friends, just to be safe. It’s interesting to see Zayn when he’s super comfortable, he’s not really boring like Harry originally thought, he’s actually really creative and intelligent, and really funny as well, just saves it for those who are worthy. And the more he’s around Harry the more he allows Harry to see. It’s kind of like little gifts every time he peels back a layer.

When they get home, they’re far from sober, and Harry stops Zayn outside his flat, both of them giggling from running through the cold.

“What? It’s bloody freezing,” Zayn’s teeth chatter, his bottom lip trembling, red from him licking his lips. Harry’s fuzzy vision focuses on it.

“You know what my mum said earlier, the touching and stuff?” 

“Yeah?”

“We need to be more convincing,” Harry says seriously.

“Okay...”

“I think we just need a practice run, like, just to get it right.”

“Like, kissing?” Zayn’s eyebrows wrinkle in tipsy confusion.

“Yeah.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, I mean, when else?”

Zayn looks at him for a moment, and all of a sudden there’s a gentle, but firm hand on the back of Harry’s neck, another resting on the meat of Harry’s hip, and Zayn’s reaching up and guiding Harry down and they’re kissing, which is surprising, since it was quite bold of Zayn to do.

And he’s good at kissing, not overpowering and sloppy, soft lips and fingers stroking over Harry’s skin. Harry’s a good kisser too, or so he’s been told, and he thinks they work well together, luckily the kind of people who have chemistry right away when it comes to kissing.

Zayn pulls away. “Are we good?” Better than good, Harry thinks.

“Yeah,” Harry nods breathlessly.

“Good, because I’m freezing. Can we please go inside?”

Harry leads them inside, then stops as the door closes behind them. His parents are already home, he knows, since he gave them the spare key. Hopefully they don’t come downstairs, because the alcohol in his system makes him feel mischievous. He grabs at Zayn and presses him against the door.

“Maybe we need a little more practice.” Zayn doesn’t object, and before he knows it they’re full on making out, Harry pressing against Zayn harder and harder, Zayn’s hands making their way to Harry’s ass.

It’s Zayn who pulls away first, which is a bit of a blessing since Harry is sure he was on his way to becoming embarrassingly hard in his jeans.

“We should go to bed,” he says, voice husky, even though his eyes flit between Harry's swollen feeling lips and his eyes.

“Yeah,” Harry says quietly. There’s a small (maybe not so small) part of him that really wants to see what it would be like to sleep with Zayn. Now that he’s kissed him, has felt how fiery and electric he is under that reservedness that put Harry off at first, Harry is unsure of how he he managed to ever assume Zayn was boring. He’s beautiful, like unreal, and the way he touched Harry, sure and teasing and a little careful, just like his personality, has intrigued Harry. 

He won’t push it though, Zayn doesn’t seem like the type to be cool with shagging and then going back to being very casual friends, or whatever they are.

Which is also weird to think about, their friendship now. They’re definitely not what they used to be anymore, acquaintances that met up a few times for media attention. Harry’s feels like they are steadily getting closer, maybe in a way that never would have happened if they hadn’t been forced together because of Harry’s stupidity. And now they’ve drunkenly had their tongues in each other mouths, which usually earns someone the title of ‘close friend’ in Harry’s book. 

It’s too confusing to think about, Harry decides when they climb into his bed. Except he still can’t sleep, a common occurrence when he’s been drinking and socialising and his mind is still awake. He shifts and turns, and Zayn grunts, trying to roll away from him, but it doesn’t seem to help since he sits up and glares at Harry. 

“Stop moving.” 

“I’m trying, sorry.” Harry whispers back. But he’s restless, picking up his phone and seeing who may still be up to text. The light must annoy Zayn though, because he rolls over again.

“Are you fucking serious?” He’s all groggy and it sounds like ‘fooking’, gruff in his accent, which makes Harry’s stomach twist a bit. 

“I can’t sleep,” he complains.

“Put the phone down, Harry.” Harry does it, only because he’s grateful for all the fake boyfriend stuff and Zayn deserves to at least sleep. 

“Come here,” Zayn pulls his arm, and rolls back over so that Harry’s curled up behind him, which is nice, but not really Harry's style, if he’s honest.

“I like to be the little spoon.” He states quietly. Zayn once again rolls over and fixes him with an incredulous look. “What?”

“You’re too big to be the little spoon!”

“Excuse me Zayn, that’s spooning discrimination.” 

“Shut it, Harry.” Zayn says, before curling up behind him, wrapping an arm around Harry’s stomach, his breath quickly slowing as it hits the back of Harry’s neck. And Harry finally finds himself following suit.

//

The next morning Zayn wakes Harry up, in more ways than one, since he’s got a hard-on pressing against Harry’s ass, which is interesting. They start on breakfast, well Harry does, since Zayn’s still practically asleep, standing behind Harry and leaning on his shoulder. He’s so tactile in the mornings, Harry’s pretty sure he could move him anywhere without a fight. And when Zayn slowly starts to wake up he presses his lips against Harry’s cheek, which turns into Harry’s lips, which turns into nearly forgetting about the food until there’s a cleared throat sounding from the doorway.

Zayn jumps away like he’s been shocked, both of them turning to see Anne and Robin.

“Good morning,” Robin says.

“Mornin’” Zayn rubs the back of his neck. “Sleep well?” His little embarrassed face is too cute, thinks Harry. His whole shy streak is cute in general, if he’s honest. 

Harry has to meet with his personal trainer, and Zayn’s got studio stuff to do, so they won’t be seeing each other until tomorrow or later. Harry’s parents want to know all about the singing, what he’s working on and if he’s toured before and who he’s worked with. Anne asks if Harry ever comes with him to the studio.

“Uh, no. Not really, just “`cus we’re both so busy, you know?”

“That’s a shame. Harry’s always been into music, but I’m sure you know that.”

“Well, yeah. But, like, producing music?” 

“Kind of, yeah,” Harry answers. “Songwriting, mostly.” 

“Oh,” Zayn’s voice lilts, like he’s surprised. Sometimes Harry remembers just how much they don’t know each other, or at least in the way boyfriends do, the little bits of each others personalities that aren’t obvious at first. And he’s really interested in knowing Zayn better. They seemed so different but maybe it’s a good balance of difference. Then underneath they’re not even that different after all.

//

The next couple of days fly by, in a whirlwind of work and taking his parents out and Zayn by his side a lot of the time. Harry can’t stop kissing him, any time they’re in private it’s like he can’t help himself, immediately in Zayn’s space. Zayn doesn’t object, seems just as into it, and Harry finds himself desperately wanting more most of the time. 

It’s ridiculous. And apparently more than enough to convince his parents that they’re an item, because even though every now and then they ask a question that both of them stumble over, or one of them slips up and almost gives themselves away (like nearly giving different stories on how they ‘met’), they get caught kissing and groping each other an embarrassing amount of times. Then Zayn stares at Harry like he wants to ruin him, and Harry’s very sure he looks like he wants to eat Zayn about three quarters of the day.

One night they stay up and just talk about everything. Zayn tells Harry about growing up as a brown kid in England and how hard it was to gather the confidence to chase his dream of music and Harry gains so much more respect for him, even gets embarrassingly teary when Zayn talks about the house he’s going to buy for his mum so he can take care of her. Zayn laughs at him, but sounds a bit emotional himself, pulls Harry into his arms in the way he’s taken to, running an idle hand through his hair. He talks about the first boy he ever loved, someone named Niall who sounds fantastic, how Zayn thought they would last forever but it just didn't work. Apparently Zayn hurt him deeply when he broke it off. 

However, Harry’s hesitant to open up that much. He’s very closed-off about his true feelings, about how he goes back and forth between always needing people around and absolutely hating having people around, about how he’s secretly a very hopeless romantic and would like nothing more than to fall in love, but can’t make up his mind about what he even wants in a relationship. 

But he does tell Zayn that he wishes he could change the way people look at him as some heartbreaker. He’s really just been thrust into an industry that’s full of criticism and he’s still trying to figure out how to keep his head straight all the time. And that no matter how much he denies it, sometimes he still has to lock himself away to cry because he’s so fucking exhausted or he still feels a bit queasy with nerves, and he can’t afford that because his job is to be beautiful, poised, and most importantly, quiet. 

Zayn gets hectic schedules and exhaustion, and although Harry doesn’t feel it with the same intensity, he can understand Zayn’s homesickness and how drained he gets from having such an extroverted career. They sit in silence afterwards, just close and breathing together, and Harry knows this is dangerous, that this is going beyond just a deal they made, but he doesn’t stop it. He wouldn’t mind having Zayn as a best friend and nothing more. He just hopes Zayn isn’t falling for him. Zayn’s too delicate for Harry’s big, clumsy hands. He deserves someone who will be steady and constant like he is, not like Harry who can be there one minute and gone the next, who flirts and gets bored and will break his heart. 

//

They say goodbye at home because it’s quieter and more private, and both Anne and Robin give Zayn tight hugs. Anne whispers something in his ear and Zayn smiles, looking over at Harry and nodding. 

When it’s Harry’s turn, he gets the usual goodbye kisses and hugs and “take care’s”. 

“I hope you two stay happy,” Anne says to him quietly. “I think he’s good for you honey.” Harry nods, and hugs her again tightly. 

And then they’re gone.

It’s weird when he turns to Zayn and realises that Zayn can go, there’s no reason for him to be in his house and sleeping in his bed and kissing him and holding him. It’s kind of sad, makes Harry’s chest tighten a little bit. He doesn’t want it to be over, just like that. 

“I guess you can get your stuff and like, go, if you want.” Harry shrugs. 

“Well, I don’t have anywhere to be right now…” Zayn trails off. “I could stay? You do owe me some incredible cookies Mr. I-used-to-be-a-baker.” It feels like the bit of tension in the room eases, and Harry beams. 

“Get ready to be amazed.”

//

Zayn is pretty impressed by Harry’s cookies, keeps complimenting him as he eats them, and Harry can’t stop smiling about it, feeling prideful and something he can’t name in his stomach when Zayn pokes his happy dimple affectionately. He has eaten a lot of cookie dough, however, whilst he was baking, and has to lay down on the couch when his stomach starts to ache.

“What’s wrong?” Zayn pouts at him, sitting down by his feet.

“Tummy hurts.”

Zayn rolls his eyes in that, I-told-you-so, tired parent way he does that seems especially for Harry.  
“What did I tell you?”

Harry looks at him sheepishly. “‘Harry Styles is the best baker in the whole world?’”

“Try again.”

“Harry Styles is the sexiest, coolest, and bestest baker in the whole universe?” 

Zayn does one of those stupidly cute giggles and leans over him. “Let me kiss it better,” he says softly, rucking up Harry’s shirt and leaning down to plant a soft kiss above his belly button.

“Here too,” Harry points a bit to the side, receives another kiss in return.

“Here”. Kiss. “And here.” Another kiss.

“Do you like being kissed here too?” Zayn says, lips soft on one of Harry’s smaller extra nipples, with which Zayn had been obsessed with when he first saw them. It’s sensitive, and Harry feels his senses all amp up a bit, especially when Zayn gets to his proper nipples and gives them kisses too.

“I know you like being kissed here,” he says, voice so smooth before he kisses Harry’s lips, gets him to open up for him and makes him melt with soft strokes of his tongue, then bites kind of hard at Harry’s bottom lip, which makes him moan in surprise. Zayn brushes his lips under Harry’s ear, drags them down his neck before sinking his teeth into the skin at his collarbone, which makes Harry’s hips jerk. Harry’s never been one for much teasing though, and tries to urge him to do something, to move lower with his mouth.

“Patience.” Zayn says firmly, which is weirdly hot, makes Harry’s face feel like it’s burning as Zayn makes his way down to suck at his hip bone. When he gets Harry out of his jeans, Harry can’t quite catch his breath. This is actually happening, after days of making out and waking up wanting and Zayn’s soft hands all over his skin, he’s actually going to get off with him. He does a quick thank you to the universe or whoever that’s out there that seems to be on his side. 

“Your thighs are so fucking sexy,” Zayn mumbles, almost to himself, and then he’s sinking his teeth there too, in the pale meat of Harry’s inner thigh, holding his leg open so he can suck a mark there.

“Fuck, Zayn.” Harry chokes out. There’s little tender points all over his body, from his lips to his thigh, every place Zayn’s assaulted him with his mouth, all connecting in a delicious ache. By the time Zayn’s done working on his other inner thigh, he’s squirming, breath uneven. Harry’s usually the kind to want to get off and be done with it, and most of the people he’s slept with have been the same, but Zayn’s taking him apart, leaving him searing inside with want. 

When he finally gets his mouth where Harry wants it most, Harry whimpers, an actual high-pitched cry that stretches out when Zayn takes him almost all the way down his throat, still holding his legs open, fingers pressing into the marks starting to form. He’s so good, Harry feels himself getting close way faster than usual. And then Zayn looks up at him, dark eyes and eyelashes and a feigned innocent look in them, slows down to a torturous pace, dragging his lips up Harry’s cock and sucking at the head in a way that makes Harry’s toes curl. He does something with his tongue that makes Harry’s ears stop working for a second, only able to hear his own desperate panting and the weak groan he lets out when Zayn pulls away, teasing him with his hand.

“Zayn,” is all he can say, and Zayn smiles at him before going back down, finally seeming to be pleased with all his teasing. He stares right up into Harry’s eyes as his abs start contracting and his hips can’t stay still, gaze burning when he jerks Harry off until he comes with a relieved moan, eyes rolling back. His legs are trembling a bit when he tries to move, but he gives a valiant effort to reach for Zayn and finish him off, until he realises that Zayn’s already gotten off. 

“Did- did you?” He asks, sounding a bit like he does after a jog. Zayn turns a bit pink. 

“It was hot, watching you.” He shrugs, which makes Harry feel like he’d be up for going again, but instead he drags him into a kiss. Zayn holds his face tenderly, kisses him softly like he’s delicate now that he’s been bitten and sucked within an inch of his life. He nudges his nose against Harry’s, tucks some stray hair behind his ear, and all of a sudden Harry starts to panic.

Everything, from the talks to the feeling he got when Zayn praised him about his cooking and took his sweet time exploring every part of Harry’s body, watched him so intensely as he fell apart and the way he’s kissing him now, like someone he wants to take care of, hang on to, hits Harry in one sharp breath as he pulls away. It’s all too intense. 

He knows Zayn’s the type to want a proper relationship with someone who can give him everything, but this started out as a deal, just helping Harry out, and it’s all spiralled. They aren’t made for each other, Harry knows that, he’s known that from the time they went on that stupid arranged date. Harry just thinks that they’d be better off as friends. Yes, they apparently had really nice sex, but Harry could sacrifice that to save Zayn’s feelings from being hurt, from him having to experience just how shitty Harry is at serious relationships because he’s internally and eternally confused. He can’t let it go any further.

“I’m sleepy,” he says to Zayn, who smiles back at him in a fond way that only makes Harry’s heart pound more, and not in a good way.

“Course you are. Nap?” Harry nods, very aware of the mess that’s gone very disgusting-feeling on his stomach, but he waits for Zayn to go first, trying to clear his head as he hurries to the bathroom to clean up. Zayn’s already half asleep in his bed when he gets there, but he knows to curl up behind Harry, palm pressed on his stomach, a warm weight, and falls asleep. 

//

When Zayn wakes up, Harry has the majority of his stuff packed up and ready. Zayn looks sleepily confused, and Harry feels guilty for doing this but he’s only protecting them both. 

“Uh, I got all your stuff packed so you can finally go home,” Harry chews his lip. “I’m really grateful Zayn, for everything you did this week. I know we didn’t really know each other, but you were still kind enough to help me out. And now I’m glad that we’ve become such close friends.” He takes a shaky breath on the word ‘friends’. Hopefully that makes the boundaries clear.

Zayn runs a hand through his hair as he slowly gets up, eyeing Harry with an unreadable look. “Okay...” 

He picks up his phone and wallet, takes his bag from Harry. “It was no problem. It was nice spending time with you.” 

Harry doesn’t follow him to his door when he drops Zayn off, scared of being caught when trying to end this complicated thing they have. 

“I’ll see you soon?” he says hopefully.

“Sure,” Zayn says. It feels heavy, even awkward in the tight space of Harry’s car. Zayn stares at him, then leans over and kisses Harry softly, pulls away so quickly and gently Harry can still feel the press of his lips. 

Then he’s gone, and the car goes empty and quiet. Harry drives back home feeling worse than he expected.

//

It’s a little weird, but Harry gets back into his old routine, working and playing and only staying in is quiet flat when absolutely necessary. He does what he always does, busies himself with his job and social life so every part of him feels full. He goes to yoga and jogging and does some shopping to make himself happy and it starts to work. It’s not like he’s had a big break up or anything, he’s just stopped a disaster from happening. He did the right thing. He even thinks that he and Zayn will be able to be friends again. One blowjob doesn’t have to ruin a friendship, Harry knows that through experience. Because he really does like Zayn, likes his company and his dry humour and how wonderful he truly is underneath the cold exterior. 

Until Zayn visits him to give back a jumper. 

“I think you accidentally packed this with some of my stuff,” he says when he hands it to Harry, looking way too good with his legs sprawled open on Harry’s couch. Harry really wishes Zayn was the type for no strings attached sex, because it’s a shame they aren’t doing it on every available surface in his flat. 

“It’s been two weeks, Zayn. Did you just unpack your bag?” Harry laughs, Zayn chuckling along with him.

“Maybe.” But then his expression sobers. Uh oh, Harry thinks. “Listen, Harry. I need to talk to you about something.”

Harry immediately wants to run. He’s always hated these talks, from the ‘what are we’s?’ to the ‘what are you going to do with your life after school?’ to the ‘I don’t think this is working out’s’. He dreads serious chats.

“Go on, then.” 

“I, well. I think it’s pretty obvious that I have feelings for you.” Fuck. “And unless I’m reading this all wrong I feel like they’re reciprocated in some kind of way. I mean, I never thought we could be together at first because we seemed so opposite but I quite like you… I’ve always thought you were cute and funny, and liked talking to you so, I don’t know,” Zayn rambles on quickly. “Maybe we could give it a shot? Like a proper go?”

Harry doesn’t meet his eyes, eyes cast downwards. A small part of him is ecstatic, has cartoon heart eyes and is already reciting poetry of adoration, but the rest of him is anxious, like an animal wanting to escape. But Harry’s never been one for holding back what he has to say so,

“I’m sorry Zayn, I can’t.”

Zayn looks hurt for a brief second, and then his face hardens. “You can’t?” 

Harry shakes his head, letting his hair cover his face.

“Can you at least look at me and give me an explanation?” He sounds wounded and angry. Harry doesn’t blame him.

Harry swallows and looks at him, which makes him feel even shittier, frowning amber eyes, and mouth set firmly. 

“It’s just, it won’t work.” 

“And what makes you so sure of that?” Harry feels a ridiculous lump form in his throat. 

“You deserve better.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“Zayn,” Harry pleads.

“Tell me.”

Harry’d really rather not, but he owes him this at least, after letting him into his home and bed and life and then pushing him away.

“You need someone who can give you the relationship you need. Someone steady and level-headed and sure of what they want.” Harry says resignedly.

“I decide who I want, Harry. That’s why I’m here. You don’t have to do the self-depreciating bullshit act.” 

“You don’t get it! I’m so shit at this, Zayn. That’s why my parents are so fucking happy that I’ve had a ‘boyfriend’ for a few months. I want to be in love and all that, so, so badly, and I try and I think I’ve met someone great and then I ruin it! I get distracted or confused or bored and I don’t want to do that to you! I’m trying to help you.” Harry feels frantic tugging at his curls and shifting from foot to foot. 

Zayn eyes him for a long minute. “Listen. You can save your humanitarian, ‘I’m saving you’ speech, okay? Because you know what you’re being? Selfish.” Zayn says, and if having his happiness focused on Harry felt good, having this quiet rage focused on him was absolutely terrible. “You give me this melodrama about how you’d never be able to be what I want to hide the fact that you’re scared. You’re scared because I’m different and you never thought we’d work. You think that I’m not enough. And you’re not scared of hurting me, Harry. You’re scared of giving yourself away to someone different, and then hurting yourself. So don’t act like you’re doing me a favour,” he spits, and he’s moving towards the door.

“You should have just said that I wasn’t good enough.” Zayn says so quiet, so angry, and then he’s closing the door behind him. 

Harry cries. He cries in his room with sad music on and then cries in the shower so he doesn’t feel so pathetic. He ignores his phone and tries to lie down and sleep it away. He’s not one for sadness naps, but what Zayn said struck deep. He knew Zayn was perceptive but fuck, to hear it all out loud like that, to see how badly he made Zayn feel when he was just trying to make everything better… He’s so embarrassed, and sad. Because it’s true, he has feelings for Zayn, of course he does. He can squash them down and rationalise them but of course they’re there. They’ve been steadily growing since the day Zayn agreed on the stupid fake boyfriend plan. Who knew it would have all gone so wrong. 

There is a voice in his head he doesn’t want to listen to, that thinks maybe, just maybe he could try the falling in love thing with Zayn, and Zayn would be as willing and sappy about it as well. Maybe he’s been searching for it with the wrong kinds of people, maybe his mum was right. He needs someone different to keep him grounded, someone who will make sure he doesn’t tire himself out, someone who understands alone time and sitting in silence and lets him be weird but doesn’t let Harry get lost in his own head. And then Harry could fill in all of Zayn’s missing pieces. Maybe he wouldn't feel so empty being at home with Zayn there to make him feel like a person who matters instead of the moving mannequin he has to be most days. And Harry can hide Zayn from the cruel public eye and hold his hand in situations that make him uncomfortable and they could work.

//

He doesn’t hear from Zayn for three weeks. He tried calling him a few times but got nothing, and they never really see each other in passing. It’s sad, but Harry figures he’ll just have to move on. He’s the one who fucked it up, anyways. He sees Zayn on television sometimes, or on the radio, and he’s doing good, and Harry’s glad for that. He still hasn’t washed the jumper he gave back, because it still has the scent of him on it, as pathetic as that sounds. 

His parents call, and of course they ask about Zayn. 

“We’re having a bit of rough patch,” Harry says before he can think. Why is he continuing this stupid lie? It would be so easy to say they broke up. Maybe it’s that stupid bit of irrational hope he’s still hanging on to.

“What happened?” Hi mum asks, sounding put out. 

“We had a fight,” Harry can feel his voice get emotional, and it’s so crazy, how he’s not pretending, how all he wants is Zayn back to be here with him. 

“Aw, Harry, I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“Yeah, we just. I don’t know. We’re complicated.”

“Of course, you’re both in very difficult positions and that can put stress on any couple. Maybe you just need to swallow your pride, yeah? Take a step to fix things. He seems to really care about you.”

He does, Harry thinks. Or at least he did. 

But his mum is right as usual. He should go talk to him. 

However, it’s easier said than done, and he puts it off until he runs into Zayn at an awards after party he’s been hired to be at a week later. He looks so fucking beautiful, and happy, and Harry has a flash of fear when he sees him posing with people for pictures, a moment of wondering if anyone else has stolen this beautiful boy away from him, not that he was ever really Harry’s to begin with. That’s when he decides that it’s now or never. He has to do something to make this right. Even if Zayn’s changed his mind he wants them to be friends. 

He corners Zayn a couple hours and a couple drinks later. 

“Zayn.” He says, and Zayn stops his conversation with the group he’s standing with.

“Oh, Harry. Hey,” Zayn says, like he’s surprised to see him there. “Guys this is Harry. He’s a model.”

Harry gives a distracted wave and then lowers his voice. “I need to talk to you.” 

“Okay.” Zayn agrees, which is progress. His friends (Harry assumes) give Zayn a knowing look when they walk away, which is interesting. Maybe Zayn has been talking about him? 

“So, what’s up?” Zayn asks when they’re away from the big crowds of people and the music is a bit quieter. 

“I need to apologise.” Harry says. “What you said to me that day, you were right. It was insulting to you and I needed someone to tell me that.”

“It’s ok, Harry.” Zayn puts a hand on his arm. “I shouldn't have been so harsh.”

“No, it’s, I- I have a lot of explaining to do that I keep bottled up… I would even tell you now, but obviously…” Harry gestures around at the party. 

“You could come back to mine afterwards,” Zayn suggests, and Harry blinks in surprise. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. If you need to explain.”

“Okay, then. Yeah. Yeah.”

They leave soon after from the back door of the club, trying to be discrete getting into the private car. When they get there Zayn leads him to his bedroom, with the cool blue lights and his artwork and collections of music that are so different from Harry’s.

“Sitting on the bed helps when you need to talk about things, I’ve always thought,” Zayn says. Harry smiles, he’s so sweet. He sits across from Harry at the end of the bed, cross-legged, and waits.

“Well, I don’t like to open up that much about really, really personal things. And I’m an open person, I seem so friendly and all that, but there’s some things I don’t like to bring up.” Harry says. He feels kind of nervous but it’s kind of freeing, saying these things, as well. Zayn just watches him intently.

“And the thing with us is that, well. I’m sure you’ve heard me being called a slag or womaniser or things like that, and it’s not all true of course, but I do kind of have some bad history with relationships. It’s like, I know how ridiculous it is to want that overwhelming falling in love shit, because it’s been so romanticised, but I can’t help it. I’m in love with love. But in reality when I try relationships I start to feel tied down, or bored, or the person needs more from me, and I fuck it up and hurt someone. And I hate hurting people. I hated hurting you, when you asked me out, too. But I’m scared. Because I do have feelings for you. Feelings that are different because you’re different. I mean, I’m not in love with you, but I definitely care about you and like having you around and want that to keep happening. I just don’t want to hurt us both.” Harry breathes out. There. He said it.

Zayn takes a minute to think. “You know, Harry. I’m all for leaving a relationship if you’re unhappy, but if you’re scared of these things happening, because they happen constantly in your dating life, maybe you just need to work on them. You don’t have to wait until you feel stifled and run away, or bored to the point of just leaving. You can learn to talk about things, and express your feelings better before things turn to shit. I mean, I know you don’t like conflict, I can tell, and your parents told me too,”

“When?” Harry frowns. Zayn just smiles.

“I did talk to them without you sometimes, Harry. I wanted to know about the guy I was starting to really like.”

Harry’s face warms a bit.

“But you’re great at communicating, Harry, and helping other people with their feelings and problems, and being there for everyone but yourself sometimes. Give your own feelings the privilege of being acknowledged and heard. And even if it’s not with me, if it’s someone else, if you two really care about each other, that effort will show and help improve the relationship.” Zayn says wisely, as usual.

“I don’t want anyone else,” Harry blurts out. “I want you. I mean if you still want me. But, I really want to try.” 

Zayn gives him one of those fond, warm looks. “And if you’re willing to try then I’m willing to as well. We’ll work together, right?” 

“Yeah,” Harry says. He’s so happy, voice tight with excitement, staring back at Zayn’s mirroring grin. And then Zayn’s kissing him, steady and gentle and everything Harry’s missed for the last few weeks, getting closer until he’s in Harry’s lap, trying to close the room between them. Then the kisses aren’t so gentle, they’re urgent and hot. And Harry’s just desperate, thankful they took off their shoes at the door so he can get right to Zayn’s clothes, tugging at his leather jacket and then his shirt, pushing him back against the bed and taking his time to explore, licking over tattoos and feeling Zayn’s nipples pebble up under his tongue. Zayn’s skin is so smooth and warm, and he shudders so prettily when Harry touches him all over, reverently, finally able to do this without worrying about consequences.

He tugs Zayn’s jeans off, kisses around his tight stomach and v-line, scrapes his teeth over his surprisingly fleshy thighs, even inhales a bit when he gets to his dick and pubic hair. He smells like body wash and Zayn, and it drives Harry crazy, makes him grind against the bed when he gets Zayn in his mouth, sloppily bobbing up and down, getting spit everywhere and groaning when Zayn gets a hand in his hair. Zayn tugs a little bit, which makes Harry feel even more frantic with it, working Zayn so enthusiastically that Zayn stops him, pulling him up by his hair carefully. 

“You’re going to end things too fast if you keep doing that, babe.” He says, voice gruff as he pulls Harry back up to kiss him, letting Harry straddle his hips, grabbing at his ass before running his hands up under Harry’s shirt, feeling up the muscles of his shoulders and digging his fingers in when Harry starts nipping around the sensitive area of his ear. Then he’s urging Harry’s shirt off, then rolling him over and tugging his jeans down. Harry can’t stop grabbing at him to kiss him, because it’s real now, it feels too good to stop. And they’ve always worked well together when it comes to kissing. 

“C’mon,” Zayn chuckles when Harry whines as he pulls away. “Wanna feel you.” He reaches over to rummage in the bedside drawer, coming back with lube and a few condoms. Harry snorts.

“High expectations?” he teases, raising an eyebrow. 

“Be quiet,” Zayn says, pecking him on the mouth once more before sliding down between his legs. “Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, getting his fingers slick before wrapping his left hand loosely around Harry’s dick, stroking slowly to ease the initial uncomfortable feeling when he slips a first finger in. 

In the end, Harry does have to tell him to stop, only because once Zayn’s up to three fingers, Harry’s cock is twitching and leaking almost constantly, even without Zayn’s hand on it anymore, and Harry doesn’t know if it’s possible, but he feels like he might come, especially with Zayn’s hot gaze on him the whole time. 

“Now,” he manages to gasp out when Zayn curves his fingers up yet again, watches as Zayn shakily gets the condom on.

“Lay down,” Harry tells him before switching positions, climbing over him and slowly sliding down on him, rocking his hips a few times to adjust.

“Fuck, Harry.” Zayn’s voice sounds so wrecked, his eyes hungry roaming over Harry as he grabs at his hips. Harry takes a few deep breaths, pushing his hair out of his eyes and then starts to move, little rolls forward at first, and then faster, Zayn guiding his movements down and forwards. After a while he leans back, using Zayn’s legs to brace himself, and rises up before slamming back down, over and over, while Zayn moans in response. Harry can feel himself sweating, his hair getting damp, and thighs getting tired but it feels so good, especially when Zayn meets his movements, thrusting up when he comes down. It forces gasps from Harry’s mouth every time, until he’s moving so fast that he has to slow and catch his breath again.

“Budge up,” Zayn taps his bum, and Harry does so with a wince as Zayn pushes him back down onto the bed, grabbing at his right leg and pushing it up towards his chest. 

“Remember to tell me if it hurts,” he says, positioning himself and then slowly pushing in. Harry moans softly, and then louder when Zayn unfolds the leg he pushed back and hooks it over his shoulder, using more of his weight to push into Harry, which is deep, and insistent, and almost a little painful, but feels so good. Harry grabs at him pulling him closer, and Zayn goes, still keeping his steady rhythm, causing Harry’s leg to get pushed back even farther (thankfully yoga seems to be paying off).

He starts to kiss and bite at Harry’s neck, one hand braced on the bed and the other reaching down to play with Harry’s nipples. The onslaught of sensation is overwhelming.

“Harder,” Harry demands, whimpering and turning his head to the side so Zayn has better access. He keeps rolling his hips in a way that has Harry trying to push back against him, and when he starts to use the full force of his weight, Harry starts feeling breathless, Zayn everywhere, inside, lips on him, fingers on him. 

“Zayn, fuck,” Harry manages to spit out. Zayn moans in response and speeds up, pushing into Harry until the muscles in the back of his leg are straining and shaking. And all those feelings, the kissing and pinching and stretching build into a collective pressure that’s going to burst. 

“Oh god,” Harry cries out, and then his body writhes a bit as he comes, Zayn slowing and letting his leg down. When he opens his eyes again, Zayn’s staring at him intensely, arms trembling above him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiles. “Your turn now.”

Zayn bites his bottom lip, starts up a fast rhythm again until he’s kissing Harry hard, coming with a stutter of his hips and a ragged groan. He pulls out carefully and disposes of the condom in the bin next to the bed before rolling over to kiss Harry’s cheek.

“Good?”

Harry eyes him incredulously. “You’re magical.”

“Really?” Zayn grins, and Harry rolls his eyes. Zayn gets up and comes back with a warm damp cloth to clean Harry up. 

“You’re pretty magical, too, he says, curling up beside Harry. They get comfortable under the sheets and Zayn spoons up behind Harry before switching off the lamp.

And when Harry wakes up the next morning he’s still there, holding him around the centre as always, and not because he’s forced to be by some stupid plan Harry’s got, but because he wants to be, because he cares about Harry and thinks he’s worth it even though he’s difficult. 

Harry really does have good taste in fake (or not-so-fake) boyfriends.

//


	2. Epilogue

After that night leaked pictures of them leaving the party together spark up rumours again, and Harry and Zayn do nothing to confirm or deny them, just go on dates and hold hands and generally enjoy each other’s company. There are a few incidents when they get caught maybe overdoing the PDA a bit.

Harry’s parents are overjoyed that they’re still going strong, and Zayn speaks to them regularly, stealing the phone from Harry when they call. They practically live in each others’ flats now, when neither of them are travelling, and it gets rid of the emptiness. Harry’s no longer so reluctant to just spend time at home. And with Harry by his side, Zayn handles social obligations a lot better, letting Harry do the charming and tedious small talk with him.

They go official after another two months, and Zayn shows up at Harry’s fashion shows like a good supportive boyfriend, especially now that he’s booking big names (it helps to be one half of the media’s recent couple obsession). Harry hangs with him at the studio whenever he can, even learns about production and lets Zayn see some of the songs he wrote. They work well together, as always.

They’re still different of course, fight constantly over little things like Harry’s outfits or Zayn’s laziness, but it’s only because they’re both stubborn as. When it comes to big things, they work through it. Harry tells Zayn when he just needs space or needs to go visit friends that he has all over the place, and Zayn trusts him, even when he sees pictures and rumours and burns a bit with jealousy. And Harry has learned to stop pushing Zayn to always be ‘on’ like he is, to let him warm up to things with gentle encouragement, and knows it’s not Harry’s fault that he doesn’t want to do things sometimes, it’s just Zayn.

Now Harry’s set to meet Zayn’s family, as a real boyfriend, thankfully, and he’s excited, having talked to them on Facetime with Zayn. Zayn says they love him already. Harry thinks that maybe, just maybe, one day when things settle down a bit, they can move in together, and buy a cat. That would be nice. But right now he’s just going with the flow, letting things progress. And that’s totally okay.

Zayn is his rock, in many ways, and Harry likes to think he’s the same for him. And he’s not sure if he’ll ever have some crazy explosive love affair like the movies and songs, but he does know Zayn’s smiles seem to get fonder every day, and he never gets tired of kissing him, and having him around makes Harry’s days that much brighter, so maybe this is his version of falling in love. Slowly, happily, willingly. And it feels pretty damn good.


End file.
